


Drown Your Sorrows

by Storine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bittersweet, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storine/pseuds/Storine
Summary: Following Leia's funeral, Rey is surprised to see the Force bond she shares with Ben reopen. And what she sees is not at all what she expected. Or: drunken use of the Force bond. Ben is drunk and sad. Rey and him play Truth or Dare.





	Drown Your Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to plan my NaNoWrimo (which starts in two freaking days) and here I am, writing a Reylo fanfic. Oh well. Enjoy xoxo

Rey adds a line to the wall of her quarters in the Falcon - another - and, her work finished, takes a moment to count them.  
A month. A whole month had gone and passed slowly, agonizingly, like the last drops of water from her canteen back on Jakku, when her mouth was so parched she thought her lips would turn to ashes and scatter away with the wind. A whole month since Luke’s death, since the Resistance had sustained horrifying losses, since she had last seen Ben in -  
Rey shakes her head violently to chase the idea from her mind. She will not think about him anymore. She can’t, for her sake and her companion’s. She needs to focus her energy on something more tangible than a Force vision halfway across the Universe and -   
Enough! Rey thinks. She feels the pull towards him and their bond, but she can’t give in. Not now. Not ever. Not after what happened and what could’ve happened, what still might happen.   
Rey tugs on the fabric of her dress to distract herself from her thoughts. The clothes she is wearing are definitely showing too much skin for her liking. She fears her cleavage will show if she moves too quickly (there are NO supports whatsoever for her chest). Rey doesn’t like the way her shoulders are exposed like this. Her bones are protruding too much - she still hasn’t gained all the weight needed to be considered “healthy”, after all. And why is the fabric hugging her like a second skin? She feels like a prey being slowly digested by a snake. The image sends a shiver down her spine.  
But Rose convinced her it was a traditional dress and that Leia would’ve been honoured to see them all wearing the clothing from her long lost home. What I sight they all were, mostly dressed in white, surrounding the coffin. Surrounding the body.  
Even a Force-sensitive being could not survive forever what Leia had gone through. It took weeks, but the sickness made its way into her body until she had no strengths left to fight it. Rey had stayed by her bedside two nights and two days without rest, praying, begging for the Force - or anything, anyone else, really - to save the General. “Don’t fret, sweet child”, she had told Rey. “I am at peace. I long to see them again.”  
Luke. Han. And probably so many more loved ones gone too soon. Who knew for sure? Leia wasn’t one to openly discuss her secrets.  
The General passed away that very night, and Rey cried until exhaustion got the best of her. She slept for a whole day and, when she awoke, found out that were not in the Outer Rims anymore. “We’re relatively close”, had explained Finn. “We’re in the Mid Rims.”  
“We’re back on Takodana?” she had asked.  
“Better. Look.”  
If Rey had thought the world of Takodana upon seeing it for the first time, she stayed speechless as the Falcon landed.  
“We’re on Naboo.”  
“I thought we had to stay away from the Mid Rims for a little while longer”, had said Rey. “Why would we risk everything to come here?”  
Poe had been the one to answer her question. “For Leia. Her mother was born here. We thought it might make her happy to come back here.”  
They had done what they could to pay their respect to Leia one last time. They even managed to find some traditional Alderaan clothes to honour the General’s heritage. But now, the funerals was over and it would soon be time for what was left of the Resistance to leave. They couldn’t risk staying at one spot for too long, not unless they wanted to be decimated.  
Now, Rey knows she has to focus on the present, one thing at the time. It is incredibly hard lately, although forcing herself to mediate had helped. Or showering, too. Whenever they could fill up the Falcon’s water tanks, everyone had the luxury of taking a water shower a week. And after their short stay on Naboo, the tanks were almost bursting. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to empty them a little, would it? A warm shower would certainly help Rey relax and stop her from thinking about anything - anyone - she wanted out of her head for at least ten wonderful minutes.  
As soon as Rey turns to face the door, the world starts spinning and she has to hold on into the wall not to fall. The young Jedi furrows her brow; what is happening? She’s dizzy, lightheaded; a burning taste invades her mouth and spreads down her throat, into her stomach. It crawls on her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Rey is about to let the panic overtake her when silence surrounds her, like her head is underwater. She hasn’t felt this in a month, but she hasn’t forgotten what it means.  
The Force bond has opened.  
Slowly turning back to face her room, Rey feels her heartbeat accelerate drastically.  
Sitting on her bed, his long legs taking most of the room, is Kylo Ren. In his hand, there’s a bottle half-full of a dark amber liquid, which he gulps once more. The burning feeling accentuates itself in Rey’s throat.  
Kylo Ren is getting drunk in my quarters.  
“Leave me alone.”  
His speech is not slurred - not yet, but if he keeps drinking at this rate, it will soon be. His voice still has its distinctive baritone that Rey remembers. He’s trying to sound threatening, but can’t quite succeed. Not when he looks like a giant in her room. Not half-drunk. Not thousand of light years away from here.  
Rey is a little surprised to see him again; after all, the last time that the Force opened their connection was when Rey safely boarded the last Resistance members on the Falcon. Since then, nothing. She had thought about what it meant most nights, when sleep wouldn’t come, but had failed to come to a satisfying conclusion. Snoke obviously wasn’t responsible for their bond - if he had ever been in the first place. Could it have been Ben? Was he so angry, so mad, so betrayed even, that he had succeeded in severing the bridge between them?  
“What do you want, scavenger?”  
It feels like a blow to the chest; not the fact that he called her scavenger (she is used to it, after all). No, what hurts the most is the spite in his voice. He despises her.   
Rey feels the tears blooming in her eyes and she quickly wipes them off before he can see them. She wills herself to be strong. She will not cry. Rey takes a deep breath to ground herself. She is getting better at her breathing exercises - they make her mind sharper, calmer. Quickly, she sees through Ben’s tough facade. He is projecting his Kylo persona in full force to her, but not to attack. No, he is using it as a shield. He doesn’t want me to fear him, he wants to protect himself. But from what?  
“I will not repeat myself.”  
His voice is barely a whisper, but it shakes Rey to her core. He is hurt. He felt Leia’s death. Of course he has; and however peaceful it may have been for Leia to let go, her loss remained deeply painful for those who stayed behind. Rey feels Kylo’s sorrow slipping through the cracks of his emotional armor, the façade he is projecting her way. She hugs herself, feeling cold and incredibly alone. What to say? What to do?  
Her voice comes out softer than she expected it to be. “I was about to shower.”  
Kylo - no, Ben, he is Ben, he will always be Ben - raises a brow. “Is that an invitation?”  
Rey can feel her face turning a bright shade of red as the warmth from her throat creeps into her cheeks. She will not reply to that. She will not take the bait. “I don’t want anything other than to be left alone.”  
Ben does not immediately reply; he swings the bottle once more and the dark liquid runs down Rey’s throat at the same time. “I cannot blame you for that.”  
“Would you stop doing that?” she says, more aggressively than she really meant it.  
She swears she sees the top of his lip raise a little into a smirk, but the shadow of the smile disappears before she can really see it in the shadow of her room. He takes a long drink and keeps it in his mouth a couple of seconds before washing it down. Rey falls on the ground, unable to stand anymore.  
“What a lightweight”, says Ben.  
“Stop it”, she commands.  
Ben lets the bottle fall on the ground. It rolls down his leg and stops a couple of inches away from Rey’s fingers.  
“I take it you’ve never had a sip before.”  
She pushes the bottle away. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with this, this, this… poison. “I grew up on a desert planet.”  
Images flash before their eyes; the daily fight for water; the debilitating thirst making Rey dizzy after a long day of work and heat against her face; the feverish dreams of seeing her parents again, her voice unable to come out due to her parched tongue… Until the visions shifts; party nights on a foreign planet with champagne flutes and lights blinding them; a spinning bottle pointing towards kids – not kids, teenagers, young adults, younger, older than Rey – in a circle, wet smacking noises and shy laughs exchanged around; the feel of the Force when Leia finally lets go, the bottle within reach, the burning feeling spreading itself in Ben’s, in Rey’s entire body, until –   
“Stop”, he whispers, his eyes watering. “Please, just stop.”  
“It’s okay, Ben. It’s okay.”  
They lock eyes and they both feel grounded again. Present. Available for the other. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the grief; Rey simply knows that she never believed she would feel like she understands Ben Solo, but the connection is back. And it is strong.  
A smile spreads on Rey’s lips and she lets her head fall against the wall.  
“I guess I see the appeal, now. I haven’t felt this relaxed in…”  
“Forever”, finishes Ben. “Don’t go past that point. Let it sink in.”  
Rey hums softly and lets the alcohol take over. Being drunk isn’t so bad, after all. The burning is fading and is warming her core and her limbs. It is not painful. Not at all. Not anymore.   
“What do people typically do when they get drunk?” she asks. Rey understands their silent agreement; they will not speak of what happened in the throne room, of the Light and the Dark, of Leia’s death. These are off limits for now. For once, not having to be Rey-the-Jedi-Scavenger-from-Jakku or the poor little orphan, not having to think about all her responsibilities and of what next is really comforting. So what if it’s with Ben Solo? At least, she’s not alone.   
Neither is he.  
“It depends. Sometimes, they just drink. Or they party. They get loud and have fun. It takes whatever is holding you back away and lets you enjoy the moment. Kids play dumb games.”  
“What kind of games?”   
He chuckles. Ben Solo, aka Kylo Ren, is chuckling in front of her. The Supreme Leader of the First Order is having drinks and laughs with the Last Jedi. “Spin the bottle. Truth or dare. Never have I ever.”  
Ben senses Rey’s confusion. A vision – a memory – of a young Rey, maybe nine years old, cleaning scraps comes to him. She’s surrounded by adults for a reason: kids never last long in the desert.   
Ben shakes the memory away and focusses his attention on Rey. “You form a circle with a bunch of people and you spin a bottle. Whoever the bottle points towards to, you have to kiss. Truth or dare is kind of self-explanatory. And never have I –“  
“Let’s play that one”, she interrupts him. “It sounds fun.”  
“You want to play truth or dare… with me?” Ben says.  
He sounds confused. Rey looks around the room.  
“You see anyone else around? Come on. Truth or dare?”  
She grabs the bottle and takes a quick sip from it, grimacing to the bitter taste. Ben is in awe of this girl. “Truth”, he replies.  
“Do you drink often?”  
Ben puts out his hand, reaching for the bottle, which Rey pushes towards him. “Most boring question ever. But no, I don’t. Truth or dare?”  
Rey smiles, quite self-assured. “Truth.”  
“Ever kissed anyone?”  
The question takes her by surprise. She looks at Ben, then at the ground, then at the wall, and back to Ben. “That is a terribly personal question to ask.”  
“It’s in the game. If you want, we can stop now”, says Ben.  
But Rey holds her hands up in front of her, as if to stop him from saying anything more – or from disappearing.  
“No, it’s fine. I’ll get you back. No, I’ve never kissed anyone. Not kissed kissed anyway.”  
“How so?” he immediately asks again, kicking an invisible enemy with the tip of his left boot.  
“Hey, my turn!” laughs Rey. “You have to wait.”  
“I choose dare. Impress me, scavenger.”  
She stays pensive for a couple of seconds, but finally, snaps her fingers together.  
“I dare you to draw a penis on Hux’s face.”  
Ben chokes on his drink. Rey is incredibly proud of herself. “So? Are you going do it?”  
For a second, Rey is afraid the connection has been broken and that she’s alone again once Ben disappears. But some time later, Ben reappears in front of her, ink on his fingers and a smug look on his face – the same look his dad would make.   
“Done. Things are getting interesting”, he says, sitting down on her bed once more. “Are you going to pick a dare, now?” he adds, pushing the bottle back to her.  
Why not, after all? The game is way more fun than Rey had expected it to be. And what has she got to lose to a drunk encounter with a man so far away from her? “Sure. Dare.”  
“I dare you… To keep the dress. I know the itch to burn it is strong, but you have to keep it.”  
“And why in the Force would I do that?” she asks in return, completely dumbfounded. Ben wants to make fun of her for wearing a dress? Or something too revealing like this? Truth is, she really wants to burn the damn thing, even if she can tell by the touch of the fabric how expensive such clothing probably is.  
Ben’s soft humming brings her back to the room. “Want me to pick truth and tell you what I think?”  
She can’t help but shrug as she takes a sip of the drink. It doesn’t burn as much, now. “Yeah, go on, Ben, tell me why I should keep the damn thing.”  
“Because it suits you. You’re beautiful.”  
“Right.” She’s been called a lot of things, in her short life: mean yet kind; strong yet innocent; young yet wise; but beautiful? Never.  
He sighs. “Come closer. I’ll prove it to you.”  
“Is that a dare, mister Solo?”  
“I dare you to come closer, miss Jedi.”  
She is about to blow him off like she would anyone else, but something in the way he’s reaching out to her, gloves off, vulnerable, makes her change her mind. So Rey stands up slowly, holding on to the wall, and takes small steps towards her bed where Ben is waiting for her. He reaches out a little more and she does the same until their fingertips touch and –  
Rey sees herself through Ben’s eyes, radiating light and warmth, glowing from within. It’s her but at the same time it’s not; she can’t really recognize her but can’t mistake the image for anyone else.  
The vision disappears suddenly and Ben repeats slowly, to mark his words, “You are beautiful. To me.”  
Rey doesn’t stop in her tracks and instead, keeps getting closer and closer to Ben until she stands between his legs, so close that her breath is blowing the top of his head softly.  
“Truth or dare?” she asks him, surprised by her own actions.  
His voice comes out as a soft, almost inaudible, whisper. “Truth.”   
Rey reaches for his face, agonizingly slowly, until her index and middle finger slightly brush against what she is aiming for: the dent of his skin under his right eye, the thin but deep line running on his face like a drenched river, the scar she permanently embedded into his skin. Her touch is like fire on Ben’s face; if he’s not careful, he will burst into flames right here, right now. But he’s tired of playing it safe.  
“Tell me”, says Rey, “the truth. Does it hurt you?”  
Ben closes his eyes to fully feel Rey’s fingertips against his skin. It’s too much, all of this is too much, he will melt, explode, maybe a combination of both, but how could he stop now? “No.” And then, opening his eyes again, he looks up until he meets Rey’s soft gaze. “Can I…” And she says a soft yes, yes, Ben can put his hands on the side of her legs to pull her closer. Yes, Ben can touch her. Always. And, before Ben can stops himself from saying the words he dreads the most, they breathlessly come out of his mouth: “Kiss me.”  
Rey doesn’t stop to think about the meaning of what he asked, the meaning of a kiss. She just bends down slightly and, first, presses her lips to the top of his head, breathing in his hair. The smell of Ben. She moves down a little and kisses his forehead, her lips like butterfly wings brushing against his skin. Rey feels Ben’s muscles tensing, his fingers twitching against her legs, but she can’t stop. Not now. Not ever. She draws his scar with her mouth, tracing it, trailing it slowly. Next is his right cheek, tenderly worshiped with all the affection she knows she has for him. Rey moves to the left side and kisses his left cheek next. She moves her hands slightly to cup his face, fingers getting lost in his hair. The air around them is electrified; everything else burns to the touch but them; Rey is soothing his inner turmoil and he is grounding her.  
She looks at his lips, red, plush, just a little open, and feels peace. Rey dips her head slightly on the side and, slowly, as if not to scare him, she closes the distance between them and tastes his mouth with hers. A sudden conclusion comes to Rey as she is kissing Ben with as much tenderness as she can express: Ben smells, tastes, and feels like what she has been searching for all these years.  
Ben is home.  
Ben is her home.

**Author's Note:**

> Did Ben Solo use his calligraphy set to paint a dick on Hux's face? You betcha. Also, no one said anything the following morning. It took two hours for Hux to realize what was on his cheek and he threw quite the tantrum.


End file.
